


Thank you for travelling with Deutsche Bahn

by mynameisnotthepoint



Category: Druck | SKAM (Germany)
Genre: M/M, also starring: - Freeform, an elderly couple named Horst and Gudrun, and a lot of german-isms, but in an ICE-train, here you go, if you were ever curious what a trian ride in germany is like, is it possible for a train delay to be romantic?, meet cute, that wonderful announcement telling you your train is delayed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-03
Updated: 2019-10-03
Packaged: 2020-11-22 20:36:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20880314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mynameisnotthepoint/pseuds/mynameisnotthepoint
Summary: ... take care and good bye.On the train from Hamburg to Berlin, a young man with the most wonderful smile sits down in the seat next to Matteo's. The train gets delayed, and the train attendant's horrible English somehow leads to an interesting conversation between them.





	Thank you for travelling with Deutsche Bahn

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Vielen Dank, dass Sie mit der Deutschen Bahn gereist sind](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20447888) by [mynameisnotthepoint](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mynameisnotthepoint/pseuds/mynameisnotthepoint). 

> So, this is a translation of my German train fic! I decided to translate it in order to maybe gain inspiration for a second chapter... This is the most German of all the fics I've written so far, but I hope it still makes sense to the non-German who has never come in contact with the (rarely on time) trains of the _Deutsche Bahn_ (or German Railway). _Welcome to the ICE train departing from Hamburg Dammtor to Berlin Main Station, we wish you a pleasant journey!_
> 
> also, thank you so much to [rikotin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rikotin/pseuds/rikotin) for being my cheerleader and being my beta!

_ “Dear ladies and gentlemen, as you have probably been able to tell, our train has just come to an unscheduled stop. This is due to another train malfunctioning on the track ahead. We kindly ask you to remain patient.” _

After delivering his message in German, the train attendant clears his throat and adds a shortened English version of the announcement.

The elderly lady in the opposite seat lets out an exasperated sigh. She turns to her husband who has the print-out version of the train’s schedule spread out on the divider table in front of him. 

“It’s just the same thing as on our journey north. Remember, Horst, with the taxi, they had to come… How are we going to get to Leipzig in these conditions? Horst, are you listening?”

Her husband, Horst, slaps the palms of his hands on the table.

“Cut it out, woman. Our transfer time in Berlin is 45 minutes, that should be more than sufficient. Always exaggerating, that’s what you are. I’ll have a look at that train application in a bit, why would we otherwise have purchased such an advanced device?”

The elderly lady’s eyes grow moist as she hesitantly agrees with her husband. She shrinks back in her seat and holds the  _ Deutsche Bahn _ -magazine in front of her as if to barricade herself from the world outside and avoid her husband’s angry stare.

Matteo still feels extremely uncomfortable with having to sit through arguments like these, carried out in public, no matter how insignificant they might be. They remind him too much of his parents. His father, who always directed snarky comments at his mother about her dinner. His mother, who couldn’t manage to entirely suppress her tears and kept wiping at her eyes with her hands. The tense silence that usually followed it all. 

To some extent, he actually preferred his parents’ shouting matches. They would at least express what they thought of each other and in doing so, be able to reach an understanding. But in the end, they stopped talking altogether: his mother would hide in her “sewing room”, which also had a spare bed, for days on end and his dad would come home smelling of cheap liquor. Sometimes, he would stay away until the next evening. At the time, it seemed like their argument would never end.

_ “Ladies and gentlemen, technicians were able to resolve the problem with the train ahead. We will resume our journey in a few moments’ time.” _

A few seconds later, the train actually starts to move again. The tall, red-bricked buildings of Hamburg slowly move past the train’s dusty window panes, accompanied by a slightly worrying rattling sound, as if the train itself has not yet realized that it is, in fact, gliding along the tracks again. 

The man next to Matteo gets up and takes his bag out of the overhead compartment.

Who takes the ICE-train from Hamburg to Berlin just to get off at another of Hamburgs many train stations? Would taking Hamburg’s subway or busses not be a more time-efficient way of doing this?

The man leaves Matteo with the elderly couple. The four-seater had not been Matteo’s first choice, but beggars can’t be choosers, at least not without a seat reservation.

They enter Hamburg Main Station, with its large platforms and overwhelming variety of food stalls along the station’s corridors. Matteo’s mouth waters at the memory of the nice Indian curry place that is tucked away in one of its exits. 

“Horst, do you remember when we took the train from Hamburg to Frankfurt? Remember, we wanted to visit your brother Helmut and his dear wife Elvira.”

Horst just hums affirmatively and continues to stare avidly at his e-reader. The font is so huge that Matteo struggles to make out separate words.

“Excuse me, is this seat taken?”

Next to their four-seater, there is a young man with dark, densely curled hair  _ –  _ perfect for burying your hands in  _ – _ and attentive brown eyes. They are like profound pools, deep enough to drown. And the way his lips curl when he smiles  _ – _

“I’ll just go sit somewhere else, if it is…”  
“Uh, no, sure.” Matteo coughs. “’s free.”

He makes a rather wooden swooping gesture, trying to be inviting.

Like a complete _ idiot. _

The man takes off his black backpack and sits down on the seat next to Matteo. He retrieves a Macbook and a pair of headphones from the backpack, plugs the headphones into the computer and puts them on.

Gone is Matteo’s chance to interact. It wouldn’t have worked out anyway. The guy probably has way better things to do than talk with a dude who is so slow at interacting that he takes half a minute to answer whether the seat next to him is taken.

Ever since they left  _ Hamburg Dammtor _ , an uncomfortable prickling sensation has been traveling up and down Matteo’s body. His hands are shaking slightly, and that’s not due to the lowered aircon temperature. Horst and his wife are still arguing, this time about the wife not being able to turn the pages on her e-reader. On the other side of the window, fields and meadows are flying past, no more than elongated smudges of color. 

It would be so nice to close his eyes and slip on his headphones, drowning out his surroundings just somewhat. But he doesn’t have them with him. They are still where he last saw them this morning: on the shoe rack at Jonas’ flatshare. Which he noticed just as the ICE-train to Berlin rolled into  _ Hamburg Dammtor _ .

_ Idiot. _

The only thing he can do now is try to pass the time by sleeping. What was it his therapist told him?

In. Out.

In and out again.

In. And. Out. Again.

* * *

Rattling. Hissing. Screeching. With a sudden jolt, the train comes to a halt. Matteo opens his eyes, looking around blarily. With his vision still blurry, he can about make out the man sitting next to him, working away on his laptop. After blinking away his drowsiness, Matteo realizes he can see what seems to be film editing software on his screen. The man hasn’t looked up once at the disturbance, far too concentrated on the program he’s working on.

A few moments later, an announcement rings through the speakers:

_ “Dear ladies and gentleman, our train has again made an unscheduled stop. There seem to be technical difficulties with the train tracks ahead of us. However, we do not have any specific explanation as of yet. We would kindly ask you to be patient.” _

The man has taken off his headphones. At the rather clumsy English announcement that follows, the man bites his lip, as if trying to suppress an impending smile. At last, the man caves and an amused huff escapes him. 

For a second, the world, scratch that, the whole solar system freezes. How could it keep turning, after this? The sun would need tinted glasses first, to shield itself from the man’s blinding smile. Or even better, it could take a small break with every smile, as it would be doing the sun’s job every time it appears.

Beautiful. That is the only word that pops into his head. His smile is beautiful.

“Gudrun, for God’s sake, stop it with your fidgeting! That doesn’t help us either. Let me switch on the smart phone.”

The man clears his throat.

“Sir, Ma’am, if there is any way I could help…?”

The woman, Gudrun, looks up, a relieved expression on her face. There are still nice people on this earth, after all, her smile seems to say  _ –  _ and probably thinks that Matteo, who hasn’t said a word to the couple during the entire train ride, is part of the decay and corruption of polite society.

“That is so very kind of you, young man. My husband and I came back from a cruise along the Norwegian fjords today, you see. On our train journey north, we already encountered some dreadful problems. And now we are visiting my sister in Leipzig on the way south. But the German Railway has again left us to fend for ourselves. Horst, I’m telling you, next time we take the plane. Those planes…”  
“Gudrun, that’s quite enough. Where would we take that plane? And staying at your sister’s was a much better idea than trying to get back to Ulm in one day.” 

Horst turns to the man.

“We live in Bavaria, you see.”

The man swallows audibly and nervously traces the edge of his laptop with his pointer finger.

“I could maybe help you with finding your connecting train?”  
“Thank you very much for offering, young man, but I think we will try too find it ourselves first. The German Railway should cover our expenses. Even if they have to order a taxi for us.”

Horst finishes his explanation with a resolute nod. Case closed, at least in his opinion. On his left, Gudrun anxiously clutches her e-reader.

The man nods as well. He goes to retrieve his headphones, misses, and suddenly they are dangling down under the table. With a reaction speed that he rarely manages to execute, Matteo is able to get a hold of them. He then offers them to the man.

“Oh, thanks.”

The man takes the headphones from him, and for a moment, his hand is pressed on top of Matteo’s, enveloping it in its warmth, which spreads itself from Matteo’s fingertips all the way down to his toes. He looks up into the man’s eyes. The man’s cheeks have a slight redness to them. Could it be that the man is feeling something similar?

The man’s eyes leave him, his gaze traveling further down. 

“You have an eyelash there, on the right side.”

Matte touches his right cheek.

“No, my right, so your left, uh, I mean, there, a little on the left of your nose.”

Matteo would facepalm if he wasn’t already dying of embarrassment.

_ Idiot. _

At last, he finds the eyelash.

“Th-thanks.”

The man smiles and shrugs awkwardly.

“Sense of direction, never had it. Happens to me all the time.”

The eyelash is still sitting on Matteo’s pointer finger. It wouldn’t make sense to blow on it here. Chances are, it would land on Gudrun’s e-reader. And that wouldn’t be very fortunate for anyone involved.

Carefully, he brushes it off against his leg and slightly blows in its direction. Half-luck is better than no luck at all.

The man utters something that suspiciously sounds like a giggle.

“I’m really sorry. It’s just that superstition is really not my thing. My colleague always looks appalled when I tell him I could care less if my sign is occupied by venus or if the moon is rising or whatever.”  
“No worries. Was just an eyelash.”  
“No, no, it was really cute, the way you just did that.”

Instantly, the man’s cheeks flush bright red. Did Matteo hear that correctly? Did the man just call him  _ cute _ ?

“Uh, I didn’t say that to make fun of you or anything. It’s just that I don’t know a lot of people who would do what you just did. I made it weird, I’m sorry.”  
“No, don’t worry. Just been a while since a guy told me that I was cute.”

He tries to say the last bit as quietly as possible, so only the man, and not the elderly couple, can hear him. Where did that sudden burst of courage come from?

The man’s eyes widen and the corners of his mouth turn up in a smile.

“Alright, then.”

The man bites his lip.

How would it feel to kiss the man in this standing train? To bury his hands in those full curls? If the table allows it, to sit down on the man’s lap?

Matteo coughs. Those thoughts are delusional. That would never happen. And the elderly couple would spiral even deeper into panic at the sight of them.

“So.”

The man looks at him expectantly.

“Let’s try that again. Hi, I’m David. And no, I don’t normally hit on handsome strangers on the train.”

He even has a sense of humor.  _ David _ has a sense of humor.  _ David. _

“Uh, Matteo.” 

He pushes his hand through his hair and gets stuck in the middle as he hasn’t brushed it in days.

“Uhm, so I’m not really into all that superstitious shit. Just a force of habit, the thing with the eyelash.”  
“Hey, you don’t have to justify yourself to me! I work in the film industry, I’m used to things that are way more out there.”  
“Really?”  
“Yeah. I mean, I can’t give you any specific examples, but as a director’s assistant, I've seen some shit. They don’t teach you these things at university.”

So David has a job. Of course he has a job. Not everyone is like Matteo.

“So, what do you do?”

What is he doing? Trying to get his life back on track. After dropping out of three different study programmes, he is studying the one subject he never wanted to. History. But it was a subject he somewhat liked and had kind of good grades in it at school. Romance studies would just have been too painful. What if his Italian was so bad that even the language learners were better at it than him?

“I-, I’m a student. History.”  
“History… Do you have a certain period that you’re especially interested in?  
“Hm… I’m really fascinated by the rise of the fascist movement in Italy, because its history and the movement itself are still very much present in Italian society. Some Italians even embrace that.”

One of these people is his grandmother’s best friend; it’s because of his family that he’s so fascinated by the subject. But they aren’t intrinsically linked, and he doesn’t hear his father’s booming voice telling him he is a waste of space every time he opens one of his reference works.

David starts to ask something, but whatever it is gets drowned out by another announcement, which crackles as it is emitted from the sound system.

“Dear ladies and gentlemen, this is your train conductor speaking. As you have probably noticed by now, our train has been standing on these tracks for quite a while. The problem lies in one of the train tracks having been damaged by a passing freight train. As the damage makes it no longer safe to pass over, we are forced to take the train back to the last switch and change to the opposing tracks. In order to do this, I will have to walk all 360 meters of our train to the other side and walk the same distance back after passing the switch. This will take approximately around ten minutes.”

Matteo looks into David’s eyes. Together they burst out into laughter.

Having to be in David’s presence longer than he planned for isn’t bad news at all.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! What did you think of Matteo and David's interactions? And how did you like meeting the wonderful Horst and Gudrun? Feel free to leave me some comments, and if you have any suggestions for how this eventful journey should continue, you can leave them in a comment or in my inbox on tumblr (same url as my name here!) ❤


End file.
